This I ask, is it not madness to kill thyself in order to escape death?
MARTIALWhen your crowd of attendants so loudly applaud you, Pomponius, it is not you, but your banquet, that is eloquent.
More Martial Quotes
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No amount of misfortune will satisfy the man who is not satisfied with reading a hundred epigrams.
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He who thinks that the lives of Priam and of Nestor were long is much deceived and mistaken. Life consists not in living, but in enjoying health.
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The present joys of life we doubly taste, By looking back with pleasure to the past.
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A cook should double one sense have: for he Should taster for himself and master be.
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Wine and women bring misery.
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You give me nothing during your life, but you promise to provide for me at your death. If you are not a fool, you know what I wish for!
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Epigrams need no crier, but are content with their own tongue.
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Every epigram should resemble a bee; it should have sting, honey, and brevity.
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For wealth’s now given to none but to the rich.
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Our days pass by, and are scored against us.
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Rarity gives a charm; so early fruits and winter roses are the most prized; and coyness sets off an extravagant mistress, while the door always open tempts no suitor.
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You importune me, Tucca, to present you with my books. I shall not do so; for you want to sell, not to read, them.
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I do not hate the man, but his vices.
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To-morrow I will live, the fool does say; To-day itself’s too late, the wise lived yesterday.
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It is not he who forms idols in gold or marble that makes them gods, but he who kneels before them.
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You puff the poets of other days, The living you deplore. Spare me the accolade: your praise Is not worth dying for.
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In adversity it is easy to despise life; he is truly brave who can endure a wretched life.
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Service cannot be expected from a friend in service; let him be a freeman who wishes to be my master.
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Be satisfied, and pleased with what thou art, Act cheerfully and well thou allotted part; Enjoy the present hour, be thankful for the past, And neither fear, nor wish, the approaches of the last.
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The bee is enclosed, and shines preserved in amber, so that it seems enshrined in its own nectar.
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The virtuous man is never a novice in worldly things.
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He who writes distichs, wishes, I suppose, to please by brevity. But, tell me, of what avail is their brevity, when there is a whose book full of them?
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Your seventh wife, Phileros, is now being buried in your field. No man’s field brings him greater profit than yours, Phileros.
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When your crowd of attendants so loudly applaud you, Pomponius, it is not you, but your banquet, that is eloquent.
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Who gives to friends so much from Fate secures, That is the only wealth for ever yours.
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The flaw which is hidden is deemed greater than it is.
MARTIAL